


Never Shall Sun that Morrow See

by spoilersweetie



Category: British Actor RPF, Macbeth RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 22:41:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoilersweetie/pseuds/spoilersweetie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I had a feeling you might be here too.”<br/>Alex jumps at the familiar voice, whiling round to see her co-star – ex co-star now, she supposes - also still in costume and standing at the other end of the church.<br/>She finds a weak smile coming to her lips. “Couldn’t let go just yet either?”<br/>“No. I guess I just wanted to…” Ken trails off, looking around at the church that had been their playhouse, words as strangely lost as Alex feels.<br/>“Lady Macbeth…” She muses. “It’s not an easy role to just walk away from.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Shall Sun that Morrow See

It is just over an hour after the play had finished – their final performance. The crew have left, the cast have gone out… celebrating, she expects; Alex was invited but she declined, begging exhaustion. It’s true, although it isn’t really the kind of exhaustion that makes her want to go home and sleep, it’s more… a pleasant kind. She feels content – and at the same time a bit numb. It’s over – it’s been a long, tiring run, Alex has worked harder than she thinks she has in years in possibly the most challenging role she’s ever played and she is… she’s pleased with her work. So pleased. Tonight the show broadcasted out to hundreds of cinemas live, and thousands overseas still to come in the upcoming months, and she and the rest of her cast had nailed a perfect, perfect job.

Still in her costume (she hadn’t felt like taking it off yet), Alex wanders down the muddy floor in the middle of the church that had been their stage over the last months. The church is dimly lit, just a single light overhead she’d switched on before she’d padded quietly in after everyone had left. She stands in the middle of the building and takes a deep breath as she gazes around her, the play echoing, flashing through her mind. It had been quite a changing experience – the play was a powerful one, powerfully performed, and Alex feels like she needs to lay her character to rest properly, to let go of Lady Macbeth tonight – she feels like she needs this time to reflect, and to detach herself, sever  the connection for good.

“I had a feeling you might be here too.”

She jumps at the familiar voice, whiling round to see her co-star – _ex_ co-star now, she supposes - also still in costume and standing at the other end of the church.

She finds a weak smile coming to her lips. “Couldn’t let go just yet either?”

“No. I guess I just wanted to…” Ken trails off, looking around at the church that had been their playhouse, words as strangely lost as Alex feels.

“Lady Macbeth…” She muses. “It’s not an easy role to just walk away from.”

“No,” Ken agrees. “Nor mine.”

“Nor yours.”

“Such ancient words… recited so many millions of times over. Do you think he would have liked it?”

“Our play - Shakespeare?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, I do. I think he would have been very proud.”

She smiles again, looking away, up at the beautiful building they are standing in. Ken makes his way slowly towards her.

“Although I think perhaps… we might have surprised him,” He says, and when Alex glances over as he comes closer, there is a twinkle in her eye that makes her smile again.

“Mmm,” she agrees, “I don’t expect Macbeth and his wife were quite so… amorous with each other in his mind when he wrote it, do you?”

“I don’t expect so,” he chuckles. “I think it would have been a good surprise though.”

“I think it’s how they always should have been,” Alex agrees, “Perhaps we’re wrong – Shakespeare intended this all along – he’s just been waiting for someone brave enough to portray them this way,” she smiles.

“Several hundred years later,” he agrees, coming to a stop in front of her.

She gazes up at him, that face that has become so familiar to her over the last year – those eyes she’s spent so much time looking into, both their faces alight with passion, frantic fury, panic, as they went through their lines, and she looks at it now, so calm and different, as she suspects her own mirrors.

Ken tilts his head at her. “What?”

She shakes her own. “Just thinking… about Macbeth. I can still see him in your face.”

He nods. “And Lady Macbeth in yours.”

She raises her eyebrows, a small smile playing about her lips. “There is nothing of her in me.”

“Ah,” he says, lifting a hand to brush the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “But there is. And there always will be, now.”

Alex bites her lip and then looks away. “I want to let her go,” she speaks, quieter, and Ken nods, understanding.  She looks back at him. “How do I do it?”

He shrugs. “How you always have done, I suppose.”

She shakes her head. “It’s never been like this; I don’t think I’ve been so deeply affected by a role before.”

“No,” he says, in agreement.

She sighs, looking around again. “I can’t believe it’s really over.”

Ken is silent for a moment before he smiles at her and starts backing up, hands held out as he speaks. “It doesn’t have to be.”

She turns to him. “What do you mean?”

“What about one final time? A goodbye – to Macbeth and Lady Macbeth.”

She looks at him before slowly a smile comes to her lips. He backs up until he reaches the raised platform at the other end of the church and stops there, hands out as he shrugs.

A smile still on her lips, Alex holds out her hands towards him. “Great Glamis!” She speaks, loud across the church. “Worthy Cawdor!”

He beams back as she speaks her first lines to him – to Macbeth - and starts to walk back down towards her as Alex too moves forwards, words tumbling from her lips as they so easily had a hundred times over.

“Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter! Thy letters have transported me beyond this ignorant present, and I feel now the future…” They are close now and Alex has forgotten herself; her voice drops: “In the instant!” And they meet in a furious kiss they have performed so many times. She whimpers into his mouth as his hands grasp at her, and Alex never had to act this part; the passion between them ,the electric chemistry had always come so easily, both did they throw themselves so fully into their roles.

“My dearest love,” he purrs to her as they break apart, faces inches apart, his eyes on her mouth as she clutches him to keep herself steady, her character’s adrenalin coursing through her. “Duncan comes here tonight.”

“And when goes hence?”

“Tomorrow, as he purposes.”

“Oh, never,” she cries, whirling away from him in excitement, “Shall sun that morrow see! Your face, my thane, is as a book where men may read strange matters.” The words pour from her, and there is only he and she in this building but it is just the same as it always is, for when she is acting this role the audience disappear – she is not aware of them, not consciously as she goes through her lines, too wrapped up in the mind of her character’s. “To beguile the time, look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under't.” She dances around Ken – Macbeth – as she speaks as he undresses purposefully, shedding his coat, unbuckling and dropping his belt, his eyes following her, hungry on her own, unmistakable lust in his gaze that her own eyes coquettishly mirror as she looks back at him. “He that's coming must be provided for: and you shall put this night's great business into my dispatch; which shall to all our nights and days to come give solely sovereign sway and –“

She is cut off, a startled gasp falling from her lips when he grabs her arm and whirls her, shoving her none too gently into the wall along the side of the stage. And no matter how many times they perform this scene, she always is so wrapped up in her words by the time she gets to the end that the action takes her by genuine surprise each and every time. “Masterdom!” She manages to breathe the final word of her lines as he stoops to grab the hem of her skirt, hoisting it up between them.

She feels lust shoot through her, hot genuine arousal that has been there present inside her for every performance, and it bubbles now, her heart beating quickly as his hand smooths over her thigh…

“We will speak further,” he breathes the words in her ear, voice low, dropped further than it ever has been; low enough for her ears only. Attempting to gather herself, Alex turns, making to dart out of his arms as she speaks:

“Only look up clear –“ But is cut off when his strong arms round her prevent her from moving away, turning her again, pressing her once more to that wall. Her breath stutters and her heart thunders. “To… alter,” she continues, voice shaky as her body begins to tremble lightly. “To alter favour ever is to – fear…” His hand hitches up her skirt again and she falters, another gasp slipping from her lips when his hand moves to her thigh again and purposefully strokes up over her smooth skin. “Leave…” She manages to get out through her entire being now focusing on the heat radiating through her body from that hand that is caressing, moving… “All the rest to me…” It comes out as a whimper, a whisper of breath, and nothing like she’d ever spoken the line before, not filled as it had been with glee and anticipation for the passion between them about to come; for the passion is suddenly here; now – this is no longer restrained lust, not a promise but an intention.

His hand slides up further, his other is tight on her hip, it and his weight pressing her to the wall, and Alex is panting, still, trembling as his fingers slip between her legs and slide through her slick flesh, his breathing is a ragged pant in her ear, hitching when he discovers how aroused she always has been here, how she holds all of Lady Macbeth’s lust for her husband entirely, wholly inside her -

She gasps, suddenly coming back to herself and realising just what they are doing, and flies out of his arms, skirt dropping back down as she stumbles away from him, fingers pressed to her mouth and eyes wide on his.

“What the hell was that?” She whispers, eyes wide and terrified – at how easy it had been to loose herself like that, at how entirely, completely she wanted him…

“My dearest love,” he repeats his line, arms outstretched once again towards her as he cautiously advances.

She shakes her head, backing away a couple more steps.

“You’re married,” she protests, voice small as she stops and lets him approach her.

“To you.”

“No.”

“My lady…”

“I’m not…”

“You are – you have been.” His hands slip onto her hips and although her head is telling her this is wrong, her body and heart reach out for him, cry out in joy at his touch. He rests his forehead against hers. “Know you not how I’ve wanted you here each night…” He speaks low and quietly, his eyes burning into her own, his hands like welcome flames on her sides. “How my very soul hath yearned to throw you down in this mud and have you right here…”

Another gasp slips from her, her legs tremble beneath her skirt and his words turn her blood to molten lava in her veins. She swallows. “Then taketh me now,” she says slowly, the language spilling so easily from her lips it startles her; she does not have to think to phrase the words so, more Lady Macbeth than Alex in that moment that they would not feel right any other way. “For I am your wife to do as you please, my passion is born of that which begot your own, I too hath longed for ours combined to be complete…”

His mouth covers her own and her tongue meets his in a furious duel as they sink to the floor simultaneously, and true to his wish he pushes her down onto her back beneath him, the cool damp mud seeping already through the rough, thin material of her dress. She gasps against his lips as he once more hikes up her skirt between them, her trembling hands flying down to help him gather the material, and then to his trousers to yank and tug at the fastenings as his fingers slip again between her legs.

She lets out a whimper, legs falling open as he roughly feels her wetted sex, her hands fumbling, yanking at his clothing until she can shove it away and withdraw the hot, hard length of him, hand slipping round him and squeezing, dragging a muffled grunt from his lips as he mouths at her neck.

“My lord,” she breathes as he pushes into her, her head tilted back, uncaring as her hair mixes into the mud beneath her. “My King…”

“My queen,” he answers back, withdrawing before pushing back inside, hips wasting no time in beginning to thrust into her in a hard rhythm that picks up speed quickly and it feel so right, his weight over her, his length inside her, body pounding hers into the mud they lay on, the smell of it putrid in the air, mingling with the sharp scent of their sex that quickly fills the atmosphere.

She is panting heavily, hands clutching at his arms, his back, his clothes as he moves inside her, and she hadn’t quite realised that she has wanted this  - _needed_  this for _so long_ … she comes quickly and before she is expecting it, the orgasm taking her by surprise as her body shudders, cries leaving her open mouth as her inner walls clench around him, clutching him inside her, begging him for more, more as she gasps and trembles…

He moves in her harder and faster, lips and teeth against the soft skin of her neck as he grunts his pleasure, their hearts beating furiously against each other’s chests, lungs and mouths gasping for air until his hips stutter, and he gives a yell against her, spilling inside her, jerking into her so roughly she feels herself nearly peak a second time, body quivering and heaving with delight until he stills over her.

Her inner muscles flutter and twitch around him in the aftershocks of their shared pleasure, and she loosens her fingers, tight on a fistful of his shirt, to smooth a trembling hand down over his heaving back.

He withdraws after a moment, pulling from her with a soft grunt, throwing her skirts down before he rolls to collapse next to her on his back and tuck himself back into his clothes. Alex (for she is suddenly so again) pants for breath as she lies still, staring up at the beautiful ceiling above them and wondering absurdly how she would explain the ruined costume and hair extensions.

She smiles when the implications of her thoughts come to her, and turns her head to look at Ken. “She’s gone,” she says softly, voice hoarse. He looks at her and nods, and Alex raises herself on an elbow to look down at him. “Do you think we should have done that a long time ago?” She asks softly.

He appears to consider for a moment before he shrugs and sits up, tugging straight his clothes. “I think the tension wouldn’t have been different, either way,” he says, getting slowly to his feet.

Biting her lip, Alex nods. He holds out a hand and she takes it and lets him pull her to her own feet.

He looks into her eyes carefully as he drops her hand. “Are you alright?”

Pushing tangled curls off her face, she nods, a smile coming to her lips. “Never better.”

He nods. “Thank you…” He says honestly, and she shrugs.

“I think we both needed that as much as each other – you’re the one who realised it. Thank _you_ – for helping me to let her go.” She tilts her head and smiles at him. “It’s been an amazing run.”

He grins at her then. “Fantastic.”

“The best.”

He holds out his arm and clears his throat. “Shall we?”

Nodding, Alex takes it, “I think,” She says, holding up the hem of her ruined dress as he leads her from the muddied stage floor. “That I’d like to take this costume off now.”

“I can help with that,” he flirts playfully but without intent, and she giggles, swatting his arm affectionately.

“I think you’ve helped quite enough in this costume’s retirement.”

He laughs, stopping to motion her through the doorway ahead of him. “Hey Alex?” He says as they move backstage.

She pauses at the entrance to her small dressing room. “Yeah?”

He grins. “How do you feel about going on tour?”

She laughs, shoving at him playfully while shaking her head before she steps through and closes the door.

“Hey - I wasn’t joking!”

 

 

 


End file.
